


Treacle Tart

by MAPMonstersArePerceptions



Series: Every Sweet Has Its Sour, Every Evil Its Good [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dobby has a Grandson?, Gen, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry and Honey to the Rescue!, Honorable Patil is not so Honorable, It gets burned tho, Warning: Leash, What is the child's name?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:40:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28010097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MAPMonstersArePerceptions/pseuds/MAPMonstersArePerceptions
Summary: A little elfling gets a new master and is hesitant to share his name.  Master's kitten is surprisingly protective.Or the one where Harry and Honey rescue Dobby's grandson.
Series: Every Sweet Has Its Sour, Every Evil Its Good [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2051541
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Treacle Tart

The lower levels of the Honorable Aadesh Patil’s home were bustling with activity. A most important guest was to portkey in from England that evening, and everything had to be perfect for the resulting feast. Only the finest local delicacies would be appropriate.

All was going according to plan with one exception.

“What does The Orphan think it’s doing?” The head-elf, Girvana, asked the youngest in their midst dangerously.

The child, who had been in the process of placing a dish in the oven, jerked in surprise and burnt his hand. His pained moan was ignored as the elder waited impatiently for an answer.

“I-I, this elfling is sorry; I thoughts the guest might like seeing some familiar food and wanted to make some treacle tart for the feast,” the boy muttered quietly.

Girvana was furious. Ever since the boy had been gifted to the honorable master by a British business associate, he’d made waves with his strange new ideas. Treacle tart was not on the menu, and the audacity of one so negatively touched by karma was more than he could stand. The boy was an orphan without status. Erratic bouts of uncontrolled magic made him a burden to the household, lacking in any redeemable quality. Thankfully, Girvana had recently learned that Master planned to sell the orphan as soon as an opportunity arose. 

“You are outcast! I heard Master Patil has plans to send you away. I’ll not let you ruin the night’s feast with your strange ways; no, I won’t!” 

With that, he grabbed the elfling by their injured hand and threw them into a corner with orders to stay. Everywhere the child looked, cruel eyes glared with suspicion. Turning his gaze to his aching limb, the boy let his tears fall silently to the ground.

* * *

The elfling was left there while everyone else went to serve upstairs. With the ovens turned off, the stone floor soon became cold. A faint trembling overtook the boy, and it became difficult to think past the pain in his hand. 

A faint pop broke him out of his stupor. Girvana smirked cruelly at him; a leash like what one would find on a dog in his hand. This leash, however, had certain magical properties that were not unfamiliar to the child. 

“Master Patil found youse a new owner. I’m to prepare you for your trip,” Girvana explained before snapping the end of the leash through a hole in the ragged pillowcase covering the boy. 

Immediately, the elfling could feel his magic being bound by the leash. Master Patil had used it before when he wished to take the elfling somewhere without sullying himself by touching a slave. The elfling’s mother had died before formal lessons on controlling his magic could begin. Shortly after, he’d been sold to Master Patil where the elder elves’ disdain removed any chance he’d had of mastering the art of controlled popping. That was over two years ago now, and today had been the first time in six months that he’d tried to put her cooking lessons to use.   
  
Just as he sought to get to his feet, Girvana gave the magical leash a harsh tug ‘to make sure the threads will hold’. Before he could get his bearings again, they had popped into the parlour in front of Master Patil and his guest.

“You’re certain you want this one? He’s rather lacking in skills, you understand,” the little elf heard. It was mortifying that a master who already held plans to sell him would talk down his abilities. Of course, a dishonorable sale to such a guest could do his reputation irreparable harm as well. 

Surprisingly, the stranger did not take the out offered to him. “Considering the fool I made of myself at supper, I’m thinking a lack of skills may work in my favor, Mr. Patil.”

If it would have been allowed, the elfling would have spoken up then about the treacle tart recipe that his mother had passed down to him. Rumor had it that it had been the best treacle ever served at Hogwarts when his grandfather worked there.

He was brought back to the present by the angry voice of Master Patil. 

“Stand up straight for your new master, Elf! He wants to look at you!”

Quickly doing as told, the child kept his eyes firmly on the ground as he’d been trained.

“Look at me,” the other man’s voice softly commanded. It lacked the anger and impatience that was so familiar, but the demand was quickly obeyed nonetheless. Forest green eyes met brilliant emerald as the elf got a first glimpse at his new master. Messy black hair and the faintest outline of a scar on his forehead made it easy to identify his new owner, but… it couldn’t be. 

Before his mother passed, she used to tell tales about her father. Once a Malfoy house-elf, he had been set free through the trickery of the man who was to be his new master. It seemed an impossible coincidence to the young elf. 

Something else caught his gaze. A beige-colored kitten with extremely large ears sat on Master’s shoulder, observing the proceedings. She looked friendly, but it was well known that a master’s familiar was off-limits to servants save for general chores related to their care.

The elfling was faintly aware of a transaction going on above him. In spite of the leash hampering his access to magic, he could still feel the power difference between his new master and the old one. Without the leash, the joining of their magics would have seemed like a flood. As it was, he couldn’t help but liken it to _Rimjhim_ , a gentle summer rain.

And then, the leash was passed over. Master Potter held his kitten in one hand and the leash in the other. With nary a word, they apparated away.

* * *

Finally, they were away from that place and in a New Delhi hotel. As much as Harry liked the Patil twins, their uncle gave him the creeps. He never could stand those who pandered to the elite while sneering at the less fortunate. It reminded him too much of… lots of people actually. The Dursleys, Malfoy, Umbitch, Fudge…. Before he could get too derailed thinking of humanity’s worst, a crash brought Harry back to why he was here in the first place. As soon as he’d let go of the leash (leash!), Dobby’s grandson had backed away. Unfortunately, it seemed like the repugnant leather had caught on the leg of a table causing the vase it held to topple. 

Honey, the dear, was holding onto the elfling’s pillowcase with her little kitten teeth in an attempt to stop him from cleaning up the mess. A simple Reparo fixed the vase right up, but his new charge shivered at the sight. Pushing the thought away, Harry went over to take off the leash and check the child for any wounds in need of tending. 

“Shhhh, Little One. You’re okay. You’re okay,” Harry whispered while reaching for the D ring that kept the boy tethered.

With the removal of the leash, a rush of magic surged from the child causing the previously unused fireplace to burst into life. The piece of leather was quickly thrown into said fire; the sooner it was destroyed, the better. The awe-filled eyes of the child were painful; seeing them quickly replaced by fear, presumably for the unsanctioned magic use, was even worse. There was only one response Harry could give in the face of it: words that he wished he’d heard growing up.

“Nice display of magic, kiddo. I’m impressed.” It was too early for a clap on the shoulder like he’d give Honey were she in this position. Speaking of… “Honey, be a dear and get the Smarya your mother made our little friend here.” Honey’s transformation from kitten to elfling made the other child jolt in shock and say his first word in Harry’s presence. 

“Whaaa?” 

That little face was adorable when it wasn’t awash with fear. Harry couldn’t help but chuckle in relief. 

“Honey’s never really fit into the stereotypes for normal. It comes with being a Potter, I guess. As to how she can do that little trick, that’s a rather lengthy story beginning with my being an idiot and ending with a two-hour lecture from ‘Mione. I can think of better ways to spend that time like seeing to any injuries. Did you cut yourself when that vase fell?” 

“N-not really, Master. I-this elf-is ready for punishment for breaking it,” the little elf whispered, looking down at the floor. Harry’s heart thudded with sadness and guilt. No child deserved this; if he’d only known, Dobby’s grandson would have been removed from such cruelties long ago. 

The restraint that had kept Harry from touching the child before withered in the face of such abject misery. Still, he kept his touch light as he lifted the boy’s head. When their eyes met, Harry responded gently but firmly, “I don’t deal in punishments, not like the ones you’re thinking of, and certainly not for something that can be fixed so easily. All I want is to know where it hurts so that I can help take it away, but I understand that you’ve little reason to trust me.”

Before the child could respond, Honey returned from her search in Harry’s suitcase. 

“Momma made you lots of Smaryas, she did. There’s enough to last you a whole week, but we’ll be home before then, right Master Harry?” Harry smiled at Honey’s enthusiasm and nodded in confirmation. The little whirlwind continued to explain, “I picked out this green one ‘cause it sorta matches your eyes; is that okay? Also, what’s your name? Master Harry tried to find out, but the stupid paperwork didn’t say.”

Harry carefully did not look at the two elflings in his charge, choosing instead to dig into the small medkit Winky had made for him earlier in the week. He was as interested as Honey in the child’s answer, but Harry doubted scrutiny from a master had ever gone well for the boy before. From the corner of his eye, however, he watched the proceedings carefully.

“Y-your momma made a Smarya, a _real_ Smarya, for me? But I’s just an orphan, a runt. These are too good for me. I can make due in this until Master chooses to replace a pillowcase,” the elfling replied hastily, though his fingers stroked the elvish-style garment reverently. It reminded Harry somewhat of how he’d felt when Mrs. Weasley made him his first Weasley sweater. 

Honey’s response was blunt, and Harry had to turn away to hide his reaction. “You’re a Potter elf now, and Potter elves wear Smaryas. Why would it matter to us that you’re an orphan? Master’s an orphan. Now. Put. It. On!” Tiny feet could be heard stomping with each word. It was the quieter, more tentative, “ _Please?”_ that finally caused the other child to take the garment though neither Harry nor Honey missed the way he winced at doing so. 

Their next exchange was whispered in Elvish and resulted in Honey and Dobby’s grandson going to a secluded corner hidden by the large bed to get him changed. A soft gasp was all the warning Harry got before Honey ushered her new friend back out. 

“Master Harry! Master Harry! He’s been burnt and hurt badly. You have to help him!” she demanded in what was just their dynamic. A quiet “Please” was contributed by the other child though whether it was a plea for help or a plea for mercy on Honey’s behalf was not difficult to interpret as he urgently made his way in front of the other elfling. 

Either way, Harry kept his tone gentle as he came closer to the two. 

“Of course, I’ll help, Honey. What do you say we get that burn treated first? An elvish friend of mine packed some cream that should help take away the pain. May I see where you’re hurt?”

The elfling held out his hand hesitantly and seemed surprised when the cream actually did as prescribed. Meanwhile, Honey kept up a steady stream of chatter trying to bring him out of his shell. 

“And when I told Mr. George about Willy Wonka, his eyes became as large as galleons, I tell you! He laughed himself silly, yes he did. Mrs. Molly snuck me an extra cookie after that. It was almost as good as my momma makes though that’s a secret we’re not supposed to tell Mrs. Molly. You won’t tell, will you?” 

By this point, Harry had moved on from the burnt hand to the child’s back. The various healing pastes worked as they should, but the application was cause enough for a flinch. At present, Harry had to pause from putting any more on as the elfling seemed to put his entire body into proving that he would not be so bad as to tell one of Master’s secrets. 

Harry broke through the child’s frantic begging with a soft touch and gentle word.

“It’s okay, Little One. I know the Potter secrets are safe with you. Perhaps you two should talk about something else, okay, Honey?” he suggested.

“Okay, Master Harry. What to say, what to say… Oh, I know! You never told us your name! What is it? What is it?”

* * *

They wanted to know his name. Of their own accord, the elfling’s arms wrapped around the warm Smarya. It would certainly be taken away once they knew just how bad he was, how unworthy. Alas, he’d avoided the topic long enough. Master’s hand had stilled; it was obvious that he was interested in the answer as well.

“A-at Master Patil’s estate, I was granted the name Kalmooha to make my status known,” he whispered, thinking back to when he’d come under the ownership of Master Patil. Life before hadn’t been easy, but he’d had his mother. It wasn’t until Master Patil that he truly learned his worth, or lack thereof. 

“What does Kalmooha mean, Little One?” Master’s voice interrupted the dark thoughts.

“Nothing, Master. It tells the world that I’m good for nothing.” The other elfling gasped in horror. No doubt, she was horrified that she’d acted so casually with one such as he. It had been nice while it lasted, having a friend. 

Master just sighed heavily before finishing his work on the child’s back. 

“Turn around,” he commanded. That gentle tone made no sense. 

“I won’t lie. That name disturbs me, and I think you don’t like it much either. Tonight, I’d like you to think a bit about what you’d like your name to be as a Potter elf. It can be something from your past before you came to India or entirely new. If I’m reading this wrong, and you do like it, you can tell me that as well, but I want you to think on it before you go to bed and tell me in the morning. Deal?”

Picking his own name? To the child, it seemed like an impossible kindness. He could almost imagine being called his old name by the Potter elves, but this sounded like Master planned to use the name as well. Every elf he’d ever known had an Elvish name and a bastardized wizard name, well except for the girl elfling. When she introduced herself under cover of the bed, she’d called herself Honey, the same as Master. Mind swirling with possibilities but unwilling to trust in this strange new world, the elfling could only nod his head slowly in response.

“Now then, I think it’s time for—” the roar of a grumbling stomach cut Master off. As if on cue, two other stomachs responded. “—dessert apparently. I’m afraid the local cuisine doesn’t quite sit right with my palate. I wonder if I can get anything that won’t set my mouth on fire here.”

This, this was a way he could serve and thank New Master for all the kindnesses granted tonight. Scrunching his eyes tightly, the little elf pictured the treacle tart he’d made earlier in the evening. One of the other elves had taken it out of the oven before it could be burnt but left it on the counter rather than bring it to the dining room with the other treats. If they hadn’t thrown it away, it should still be a good enough offering for Master. Now if his magic would only listen to him and do as told. 

Holding his breath, the elfling snapped his fingers meaningfully, thankful for the burn cream that took away almost all of the pain the action would have caused otherwise. Suddenly, the tart appeared beside them all. Giddy with success, the child snapped his finger a second time, now with the aim of heating up the delectable treat. Magic now spent, the elfling turned to Master, hoping he’d be pleased. 

Master’s eyes were round as saucers. “Well, that’s one problem solved. Thank you, Little One. Honey, would you get the Anjou juice? I’d like you and our friend here to have a cup before bed.” 

“Yes, Master Harry!”

“Good girl. Now child, how hungry are you?” The elfling didn’t understand. The treacle was for Master, maybe for the girl elfling since she seemed to be so favoured. Not for him. Certainly not for him. A growl from his stomach answered before he could politely decline. 

“We’ll start you off with this, eh? If you decide you want more after that, just let me know, okay buddy?” The slice on offer seemed impossibly large. With disbelieving eyes, the elfling took the plate from Master. 

Before long, all three had a slice in front of them, and Master’s strange kindness showed itself again when he proclaimed, “Eat up!”

Eating alongside Master felt like the height of impropriety, but the girl elf seemed to be completely at ease, reminding him to drink the juice that had been set beside him. 

“Master Harry makes the best Anjou juice ever! He mixes it with honey and lots of other nice things to help us grow strong.”

“To be fair, most of what I know about Anjou juice was taught to me by your aunt Winky, dear, when you were a baby. I’m glad you enjoy it though.” Master responded with good cheer before turning his attention back to the other elfling in the room. 

“This treacle tart is really quite wonderful, child. Where’d you get it?”

“I-I made it for the dinner tonight, Master. The other elves didn’t like that I made a foreign dish for such an important guest, so it never made it up to the dining hall.”

“Is that how you got that burn?” 

“Yes, Master. Girvana pulled me away as I was putting it into the oven,” he whispered in reply.

“I’m sorry you got hurt for that. This treacle is the best I’ve had since Hogwarts. Thank you for sharing it with us,” Master acted as though it was an honor.

Eventually, everyone had eaten their fill, and Master declared it time to rest. A little nest made of soft blankets and fluffy pillows was created for the two elflings to share though Master made it clear that they could come to him if there was a problem in the night. Before Master could retire to his own bed, however, the girl elf asked for a story. The elfling beside her could not help but cringe at the audacity even as her favoured status once again protected her from the punishment such an act would normally call for. Instead, Master just lowered himself to the ground next to the nest and began to speak. 

“This is the tale of a house-elf and a wizard,” Master began. “Their relationship was not typical for their kind, and neither quite fit in with what the world expected of them. They each tried to help the other, but each held responsibilities that often prevented them from actually asking how to best accomplish that goal.”

The story was a long one about an orphan not unlike the elfling and a kindly wizard who sought to relieve him of the burdens thrust upon him, first by attempting to grant death, then by helping him to change ownership. The elfling was surprised that, after the change, the orphan was permitted as much freedom as he was… coming and going, working on projects that seemed utterly unrelated to the benefit of the wizard, but the strange dynamic seemed to work for them to an almost fairy tale extent. The elfling began to wonder if Master was trying to suggest that such a thing could be real, could be meant for him, when the story took a turn for the worst. 

  
“He wasn’t meant to die. Not like that. His death helped the orphan to complete his mission, and all he got was a grave for his troubles.” Bitter tears clouded Master’s eyes. It was obvious to the elfling that the wizard had been a close friend. It was honestly surprising that Master didn’t hate elves for the loss. Still, curiosity forced the child to ask...

“What happened to the orphan, Master? D-do you know where he was sent after the wizard’s death?”

A wry grin graced Master’s face. 

“I do indeed know what happened to him, Little One. After he completed the tasks given to him by the fates, he went off to the home of his ancestors to try to recover some of the peace that had been denied him for so long.”

Ancestral home? That didn’t make sense…

Seeing his confused face, Master continued gently, “I’m afraid you may have gotten a little confused. The orphan wasn’t the house-elf in the story, and the protector wasn’t a wizard.”  
  
“But then…”

“I was the orphan, a child whose job it was to stop You-Know-Who. My protector was a house-elf named Dobby, your grandfather.”

“My, but how, why?” The question faded into the dim light of the room. The elfling didn’t even know what he wanted to ask. ‘How did you learn of me?’ seemed sensible enough. ‘How did you find me?’ also fit the situation. ‘Why did it take you so long?’ was impertinent to the extreme and not something he’d ever let into the world. Impossibly, that was the question Master heard in the intruding silence. 

“Dobby and I never really talked about our personal lives. Oh, Dobby knew quite a bit about me from being a super-spy, but most of what I knew about Dobby was superficial -- his love of socks and poor treatment at the hands of the Malfoys about sums it up really. I was a self-centered lad that didn’t really think beyond trying to survive the school year, most times. It doesn’t excuse it or make it better, but I didn’t come for you before because I didn’t know that he’d had a family until recently. Once I knew, I started searching. If you’d been happy and well-treated at Patil’s place, I’d have likely left things as they were, but knowing even a little about the mistreatment… I couldn’t stand by.”

The elfling wanted to say more, but a yawn interrupted anything that he might have said in response. A large hand came down to affectionately pat his head. 

“I think it’s time for all of us to get a bit of rest. I know this is a lot to take in, Little One. If you’d like, we can take some time once we get back to the Manor to really talk it out. For now, I’d like you to rest and maybe think on what you’d like to be called in your new home, okay?”

With a sleepy nod, the child agreed and watched as a master tucked two elflings into an elf-sized nest. 

* * *

An anguished whimper woke the group from their slumber. Harry quickly turned to the nest where Honey and Dobby’s grandson had been sleeping. Honey watched terrified as the other elfling began to thrash, trapped in a nightmare. Ordering her to the bed where she’d hopefully be safe from any backlash (be it physical or magical), Harry set about trying to wake up his newest charge, carefully gathering the child into his arms much like he’d done for Honey during the few times nightmares had plagued her rest. 

“Ech-la!” the child screamed, suddenly sitting up and banging his head on Harry’s nose. The physical pain took a distant second to the emotional pain of hearing the elfling call for his dead mother. Harry offered what comfort he could, thankful that at least the boy allowed himself the comfort of burying his face into the folds of Harry’s robe as he sobbed. 

“It’ll be okay, Little One. You’re safe, Child,” he crooned softly. Eventually, desperate tears gave way to hiccups and then speech. 

“Donally. M-mother called me Donally, said she wanted a name that would give strength and bravery like what her papa had. If Master really wants me to pick out my name, please call’s me Donally.”

And so, they did. 

* * *

[Picture of Donally in Smarya](https://flic.kr/p/2kfHG6F)   
  
Google "Dobby Kitten" for pictures of approximately what Honey looked like

**Author's Note:**

> Please read and review!


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